<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Attention-Seeking Behaviour by Kantayra</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25628929">Attention-Seeking Behaviour</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra'>Kantayra</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Masters and Doctors in the Matrix [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who &amp; Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Carnivorous Plants, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Minor Seventh Doctor/The Master (Macqueen), Reading, The Master Has Issues, attention-seeking behavior</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:01:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,948</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25628929</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Seventh Doctor just wants to read a nice good book. The Master just wants the Doctor to pay attention to him constantly. Is any of that too much to ask?</p><p>The day-to-day domestic foibles of two complete idiots.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Seventh Doctor/The Master (Ainley), The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Masters and Doctors in the Matrix [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592659</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Attention-Seeking Behaviour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I’m far from the first person to liken Ainley!Master to a cat in his attempts to gain the Doctor’s attention, and I sincerely hope that I won’t be the last.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Doctor had just got himself settled perfectly into his favourite armchair: a cushion propped up just so behind the small of his back, an afghan he’d received from an 11<sup>th</sup>-century trader from Samarkand draped over his lap so that he wouldn’t get chilled, a tray with steaming-hot tea on the end table beside him, and a book on the travels of the Backwards Walkers of Gibol Prime that he’d always wanted to read.</p><p>He flipped open the cover of the massive tome – because, naturally, as Backwards Walkers, the Gibollians spent a tremendous amount of their creative energies on the places they’d been previously – and began to read.</p><p>The first chapter was dedicated to the trailing pattern of stars observed when one stared out the back of a warp-drive ship in flight, and the Doctor was becoming quite absorbed in the life-cycle of the light-spores that clung to the ship’s wake like barnacles, when suddenly the room exploded.</p><p>The Doctor flailed, made a number of embarrassing noises that ranged from “ack!” to “grch!”, and opened his eyes again to find every object in the room obliterated, including his favourite armchair, his soft cushion, his cosy afghan, the tea tray, and his new book. Only he had been spared, being hardcoded into the Matrix’s database as he was.</p><p>He blinked in disbelief and coughed out a great mouthful of white dust that was all that remained of his quiet evening in.</p><p>From the laboratory in the room next door, the Master lazily leaned back so that his head was visible in the doorframe. “Oh, dear me,” he said dryly. “I do hope that I haven’t disturbed you. My most sincere apologies, Doctor!” Rarely had the Doctor heard a voice that was more thoroughly insincere and genuinely unapologetic.</p><p>The Doctor sputtered, materialised himself his umbrella, and used it as a support as he levered himself up off the floor and onto to his feet. “What in Rassilon’s name are you doing?” he demanded in indignation, and stalked over to the adjoining laboratory to more effectively glare at the Master’s last misbehaviour.</p><p>The Master chuckled to himself. “Nothing in <em>Rassilon’s</em> name, I assure you. Merely studying that fascinating compound we picked up on our little jaunt to Spica.”</p><p>“You mean the one they used to make their sun go prematurely supernova?” the Doctor demanded. “And when did you <em>pick up</em> any of that stuff? I deliberately kept an eye on you the entire time to prevent that very occurrence!”</p><p>“Yes, well,” the Master sniffed. “That was then. You were distracted just now, so I went back”—he reached out to wipe away a smudge of dust on the Doctor’s cheek with one leather-gloved thumb—“and availed myself.” He moved to wipe the dust off on his jacket, then reconsidered the effect the white dust would have on the black velvet, and instead brought his thumb up to his lips and provocatively licked the leather clean.</p><p>The Doctor gulped in reaction. “Well,” he said a bit hoarsely, “I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”</p><p>The Master huffed. “I’m afraid I <em>wasn’t paying attention</em>,” he said the last with an oddly forced emphasis. “Perhaps you’d be so kind as to teach me my lesson again?” He turned back to face the lab table that had somehow miraculously survived (or else the Master had had the Matrix reconstitute it) and leaned his hands forwards onto it.</p><p>As a result, the Doctor was presented with a clear view of the Master’s arched back. The table was solid metal and looked very, very sturdy. “Oh well,” the Doctor said, “if you insist,” and hung his umbrella and hat on the doorknob as a sign to anyone who might be foolish enough to disturb them, before swinging the door closed behind them.</p><p>After all, the Doctor could take a hint, although not – perhaps – a clue.</p><p>***</p><p>Several hours later, with the Master properly attended to and sleeping contentedly beside him in the newly restored bed, the Doctor took the rare moment of peace to reconstitute his book. That really was a nice perk of the Matrix, especially when one had such naturally destructive companionship.</p><p>The Doctor snuggled into the pillows and got himself well into chapter four, when suddenly the telepathic clang of the TARDIS’ cloister bells rang through his skull. He fell out of bed, tripping over the sheets as he did so, and pulled himself up off the floor. He did notice out of the corner of his eye that the Master had vacated the bed at some point while the Doctor had been absorbed in his reading, and was now nowhere to be seen.</p><p>With an odd combination of resigned panic, the Doctor dashed into his TARDIS, to find that seemingly every last system on the console had been set to overdrive, so that the whole ship was now in peril of overloading.</p><p>The Doctor ran wildly between panels, turning everything back off in his best approximation of most critical to least critical. Gradually, the TARDIS alarms softened, the flashing red lights all shifted back to soothing white, until finally all the Doctor could hear anymore was the TARDIS’ grateful, relieved thrum against the back of his consciousness.</p><p>“There, there, beautiful,” he clucked to her under his breath. “You’re all right now. No damage done.” He stroked the console reassuringly.</p><p>The TARDIS whirred, luxuriating in the attention.</p><p>Behind the Doctor, something dropped to the floor with a very loud clang.</p><p>The Doctor turned to find the Master standing behind him, with that wide-eyed fake-innocent look that suited his features so very poorly. The Doctor sighed. “Bored?” he asked, bending over to pick up the relative-dimensional spanner before handing it back to the Master with a gentlemanly little bow.</p><p>The Master’s nostrils flared once, and his eyes went dark, his natural response to any time the Doctor bent over for anything. Slowly and with sensual grace, he wrapped his fingers around the Doctor’s and deliberately slid the spanner from his palm. “Merely performing some much-need maintenance in all my <em>spare time</em>.” There was that snide, over-emphasised tone again. “A quick stress test, that’s all.”</p><p>“Ah, I see,” the Doctor nodded knowingly, “you thought that now was the appropriate time for <em>stress testing</em>.”</p><p>The Master stroked the length of the spanner with one hand, while the other still clutched it so hard the black leather of his glove strained. “Indeed. If you’ll come over to the console, I have some quite interesting results to show you.”</p><p>The Doctor went over to the console. What the Master had to show him was quite illuminating indeed. Particularly the unique new use for that spanner that the Master had just thought up.</p><p>***</p><p>Around this point, the Doctor resigned himself to the fact that the Master needed more regular stimulation. Leaving him to stew on his own in the Matrix was obviously a recipe for disaster.</p><p>So the Doctor led him into the TARDIS and took him on a nice field trip to the gardens of Experion V. The gardens were renowned for both their beauty and for their rare collection of man-eating plants, carefully cultivated from every planet known to have evolved such deadly foliage. The Master flitted about with childlike glee at the Doctor’s side, both his horticultural and homicidal proclivities engaged in rapt fascination at the seemingly endless succession of greenhouses.</p><p>Feeling quite chuffed at his accomplishment, the Doctor settled onto one of the benches in the less lethal greenhouses.</p><p>“Come now,” the Master chided him impatiently, “you can’t be tired already.”</p><p>“Just let me take a quick breather.” The Doctor waved him off. “You go on ahead.” He pointed to the overhead sign that indicated that the next greenhouse featured all the plants with noose-traps.</p><p>The Master wavered for a moment, clearly torn as he shifted his weight on his feet so that one moment he seemed tempted to go forwards and the next back to the magnetic pull the Doctor had over him.</p><p>“I’ll catch up to you later,” the Doctor lied. “Go on.”</p><p>The Master inclined in the forwards direction and said, “Well, if you insist…” before departing to the next greenhouse.</p><p>The Doctor smiled to himself and pulled out his book. It really had been an excellent idea to come here. They could both make a nice, relaxing day of it, and tonight… Well, <em>tonight</em> he had several additional excellent ideas that he’d quite enjoy trying out on the Master’s body.</p><p>He flipped to his current chapter and read long into the afternoon, uninterrupted. Occasionally, he’d emerge from his book for a quick stretch and a self-congratulatory thought for how well this had all worked out. But, for the most part, the day was spent in sheer bibliophilic bliss.</p><p>Until, of course, the tremors started.</p><p>At the first, the Doctor assumed it to be a minor quake, as could be expected on all tectonic planets. But then there was a second and a third, each growing stronger and all – coincidentally – coming from the direction in which the Master had wandered off earlier that morning.</p><p>The Doctor froze in place for one moment. “Oh, surely not…” he muttered to himself, but even as he did so, he knew he was lying to himself.</p><p>He vanished his book again and hastily made off after the Master. As regular mates, their telepathic connection was quite strong now, and the Doctor was able to follow that nefarious glee straight back to the source. The tremors grew stronger and stronger the closer to the Master he got.</p><p>Finally, he burst into what looked like a bio-dome geared towards the cross-breeding of new cultivars. And there in the middle was…</p><p>“Oh dear.” The Doctor looked up and up and up at the three-storey-high Utricularia, each of its transparent, balloon-like traps now large enough to engulf a horse. The Master had also taken the opportunity to add a gaping fanged maw and legs.</p><p>Now, while the Doctor hadn’t actually <em>seen</em> the Master up until this point, he had absolutely zero doubts about that little leap of logic he’d just made in assigning blame in that direction. In retrospect, it suddenly occurred to him that leaving the Master alone with murderous plants might have been asking for trouble.</p><p>The Doctor’s startled exclamation had apparently caught the monstrous Utricularia’s attention. (Could it hear? Or sense the carbon dioxide expelled upon his breath, perhaps? Fascinating!) The sky-high foliage turned and took one long step forward. As the stalks at the base of its makeshift leg came down, the ground shook with the force of the impact. That explained the tremors, then.</p><p>The Doctor took five rapid steps backwards to match each of the Utricularia’s one. However, all too soon, he found himself backed up against the glass panes of the bio-dome wall, with the door blocked by one gargantuan snapping trap – and since when did Utricularia snap? – rather like a large carnivorous butterfly net.</p><p>That, of course, was the Master’s cue to let out a maniacal laugh. “Are you having fun playing with my latest pet, Doctor?” he taunted. He stood in full dastardly regalia behind the Utricularia, so that the Doctor could see him between the gap in the Utricularia’s legs. The Master preened a bit, looking far too pleased with his latest abomination.</p><p>“Can’t I take you anywhere?” the Doctor complained.</p><p>“You have fallen into my trap, as I knew you would!” the Master continued to pontificate in fine form.</p><p>The Doctor would’ve taken more opportunity to admire his fine form, had he not been ducking and dodging flailing stolons.</p><p>“Speechless, I see, at your impending doom!” the Master continued to taunt him. “Perhaps now you realise the folly of <em>turning your back on me</em>, for even a moment!”</p><p>The Master really was coming on quite strongly, wasn’t he? The Doctor hoped the dear fellow didn’t actually believe he’d thwarted the Doctor because, well…</p><p>As anticipated, with the Doctor holding his breath as best could while evading destruction and the Master bragging quite a lot, the Master was releasing a good deal more CO<sub>2</sub> into the air. Slowly, the Utricularia’s attention turned onto his creator, and it began stalking after the Master with unrelenting determination.</p><p>The Master’s smirk fell into a look of alarm when he saw his monster suddenly coming directly for him instead. He made to step back but tripped over the watering can behind him and tumbled to the ground. In the meantime, the Utricularia had closed the distance between them. A massive stolon descended, the mouth of the trap gaping wide to engulf the Master.</p><p>“Save me, Doctor!” the Master pleaded as he was encased in the velum of the Utricularia’s trap. He banged his fists against the clear membrane in vain, for it just flexed supplely with his movements, like a thin plastic sheath, making any escape impossible. The Doctor saw the Master mouth several more pleas for help, even though the Doctor could no longer hear him through the membrane.</p><p>The Doctor dove for the control panel. The Utricularia turned back on him as he did so, but he managed to reach the switches first and, just as another giant velum trap descended, turned off all the lights in the bio-dome.</p><p>The artificial sun flicked off, plunging them all into instant darkness. In response, the Utricularia froze in place, its trap hovering mere feet above the Doctor’s head, asleep until the sun returned to reawaken it.</p><p>The Doctor let out a long sigh of relief and pulled a small torch from his pocket. Using its guiding light, he crept through the pitch black until found the Master still silently yelling and ineffectually pounding the walls of his trap on the far side of the bio-dome. Holding the torch between his teeth, the Doctor grabbed the hinge of the trap’s door and began the concerted effort of prising it open. The Master caught on and mirrored his actions from the inside of the trap.</p><p>Together, they finally peeled it open, and the Master tumbled out right on top of the Doctor, gasping for breath.</p><p>“You saved me,” he panted adoringly against the Doctor’s cheek.</p><p>“Yes, well…” The Doctor felt his body growing quite excited at all the affectionate nuzzling and rubbing the Master was doing. “I hope you’re properly appreciative.”</p><p>“Oh, I can be <em>very</em> appreciative,” the Master purred against him.</p><p>For once, the Master wasn’t lying.</p><p>***</p><p>The Doctor stared at the Master.</p><p>Across the table, the Master stared placidly back at the Doctor.</p><p>The Doctor reached out and carefully flipped open the cover of his book, keeping his eyes trained on the Master the entire time.</p><p>The Master yawned innocently.</p><p>The Doctor narrowed his eyes at the Master suspiciously.</p><p>The Master examined his nails, seemingly unconcerned.</p><p>Very carefully, the Doctor lowered his gaze until he was looking at the page before him instead.</p><p>A cacophonous clatter sounded.</p><p>The Doctor jerked his gaze back up to find that the Master had knocked the tea tray off the edge of the table during that one second’s inattention.</p><p>“Oops,” the Master smiled toothily, completely unrepentant, “how exceptionally clumsy of me.”</p><p>The Doctor sighed. “Is that how it’s going to be, then?” he asked wearily.</p><p>“My dear Doctor,” the Master tutted, “that’s how it always <em>has</em> been.”</p><p>The Doctor couldn’t disagree with that. All that was left, then, was to put the full effort of his mind towards figuring out how to work within the bounds the Master had set.</p><p>***</p><p>The Doctor well realised that the two of them presented a very strange picture. To an outsider, it must have looked like a scene of domestic bliss:</p><p>The Doctor sat back against the trunk of a stately tree, a pillow squished comfortably behind him to soften the contact with the rough bark and support his back, his book open at his side.</p><p>As he read, his fingers stroked languidly through the Master’s hair where the Master rested it snuggly in the Doctor’s lap, his body draped across the verdant lawn like a contented feline in the dappled sunlight.</p><p>However, to anyone familiar with the two of them, the eternal struggle for power was evident:</p><p>The way every so often the Doctor’s attention would drift as he became absorbed in the voyages across the cosmos.</p><p>How the Master’s body would tense each time the Doctor’s hand stilled from its rhythmic petting, in preparation to lash out pettily.</p><p>And in response the Doctor sensing the coiling of the Master’s body and obligingly resuming his stroking until the Master was once more relaxed and liquid and pliant.</p><p>The Doctor didn’t care much what the others thought, though: It wasn’t like any of the other Doctors or Masters could throw stones.</p><p>And, after all, it was all in service of a very good book.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <h2>Epilogue: Macqueen!Master: A Study in Contrasts</h2>
</div><p>The Fourteenth Master, of course, was an entirely different beast.</p><p>The Doctor turned the next page of the book when, suddenly, the Fourteenth Master’s forehead was pressed against his, his eyes staring remorselessly into the Doctor’s, obstructing the Doctor’s entire field of vision.</p><p>“Pay attention to me!” the Fourteenth Master demanded right against the Doctor’s mouth. Somehow, through sheer stubborn will, the Master managed to not even so much as blink.</p><p>The Doctor’s eyes crossed, and he tried to turn his head slightly to escape, but the Master moved with him, staying so unbearably close that their eyeballs might actually have brushed. As such, the Doctor didn’t really see that he had any choice whatsoever in the matter and paid the Master all the attention he deserved.</p><p>See? Entirely different beast.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I make up a lot of ridiculous nonsense for my stories. However, Utricularia – or bladderworts – are not one of them: <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Utricularia">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Utricularia</a>. Utricularia are ridiculous nonsense that I <i>didn’t</i> have to make up. ♥ the Plant Kingdom</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>